The Peppercorn Tree
Such a nice work of Nature and pretty for to see
And pleasant for to scent it's leaves the peppercorn tree
To look at not unlike the weeping willow it's branches hanging down
A thing of natural beauty in a garden of the town,
The beautiful peppercorn trees have a style of their own
And only natural beauty in Nature's World known
Had i the gift of poetry of Nature i would write
Of things such as the rich green peppercorn tree lovely in the noon sunlight
It never loses it's leaves it is an evergreen
Such lovely things in Nature we take for granted to be seen
The strong though pleasant peppercorn like aroma blown out by the freshening breeze
That blow up from the coastal lands through the peppercorn trees
Such a nice work of Nature or so 'twould seem to me
It does have it's own beauty the peppercorn tree.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Willow Tree
Let me be your weeping willow tree
Surround you with my long limbs
My dear, let me grow in the shade
In the sands by the bank of your river
Let I drink from your streams
The cool breeze fill my leaves
We will sing together
Water over the pebbles
And Ill be by your side forever
I wish I was a weeping willow tree
I wish I was a weeping willow tree
I wish I was a weeping willow tree
Sweet river caress how softly
Stir my searching roots
Shading the sun in the summers heat
Let I cool you
We have been dancing so long
In the winters freeze and the summers drought
We survive
We belong
Let us sing together
Water over the pebbles
And Ill be by your side forever
I wish I was your weeping willow tree
I wish I was a weeping willow tree
I wish I was a weeping willow tree
Let us sing together
Water over the pebbles
And Ill be by your side forever
Let us sing together
Water over the pebbles
And Ill be by your side forever
We can sing together
Water over the pebbles
And Ill be by your side forever
Let me be
Your willow tree
Your willow tree
song performed by by G. Love & Special Sauce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Lonely Willow Tree
THAT LONELY WILLOW TREE
God made this Earth,
The Sun... The Air.
He placed it all
Into Man's care.
On it He placed
Flowers and trees
In beautiful colors,
Man's eyes to please.
But when He thought
His work was done,
He added this....
A tree.....Just one.
He planted here
A Willow Tree,
Where Man could pray
On bended knee.
But now when Man
Neglects to come,
He named this tree
The weeping one.
Near a stream
Where no one will be
There stands a lonely
Weeping Willow Tree.
And when you see
It's branches weep,
You know that from
God's eyes....
....................Tears do Seep.
Author: Carolyn Ford Witt
6-22-1979
By Ms. Caroline
© 2006 Ms. Caroline (All rights reserved)
poem by Carolyn Ford Witt
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The Willow Tree
I am a Willow Tree, that sways gently in the wind
I am a Willow Tree, who has no limits.
I am a Willow Tree, who has long and beautiful branches
I am a Willow Tree, who provides shade and comfort.
I am a Willow Tree, who can be placed anywhere
I am a Willow Tree, I whisper in the wind.
I am a Willow Tree, you think I'm very free
I am a Willow Tree, don't ever want to be me.
poem by Lucy Gocher
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The Wonders Of Nature
The wonders of Nature around us every day
The billions of multicoloured wildflowers that bloom in their own natural way
The hum of the nectar gathering honey bees
And the scent of pollen blown out from the blossoming trees.
The pleasant sounds of Nature to us ever near
The songs of the wild birds so pleasing for to hear
And as much as the trees and the flowers and as much as bird song
We are part of Nature and to her we belong.
The beauty of Nature is for all to see
It is all around you and it is all around me
The beauty of our Earth Mother is for all to admire
And of singing her praises could one ever tire.
The poets are inspired by her and in their poems they sing
Of her Seasons the Summer, Fall, Winter and Spring
And in the work of the artist on the gallery wall
The beauty captured on canvas of a waterfall.
The wonders of Nature are around us everywhere
White butterflies dancing in the balmy air
And in Nature everything lives in a natural way
And for to view her beauty we do not have to pay.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Willow Tree
In the graveyard stands a willow tree,
You can hide within its branches,
And it will keep you safe,
And it will keep you warm,
And it will keep all your demons at bay,
I like the willow tree,
It sets me free,
And safe within its branches it cradles me,
As I look out through its branches,
I see people crying for their loved ones,
Tears rolling down their faces,
I want to shout to them,
And let them in here with me,
I like the willow tree,
It sets me free,
And safe within its branches it cradles me,
But I can’t, I can’t let them in,
Even though I know their suffering,
Because it’s the living that hurt you,
And I don’t want too be hurt anymore,
So only my dead friends are in here with me,
I like the willow tree,
It sets me free,
And safe within its branches it cradles me,
The willow tree.
poem by Darren Harris
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When I Want To See Beauty
When I want to see beauty I need not travel far
Not even for a short drive in a car
Outside my window on flowering callistemon tree
A natural thing of beauty there to see.
The new holland honeyeater in his dark and gold
A bird of beauty lovely to behold
He chirrups loud amongst the leafy bowers
And take his fill of nectar from the flowers.
When I want beauty all I have to do
Is walk near my home down shady avenue
Where white backed magpie on the tall gum sing
In Nature beauty is a natural thing.
For beauty money I don't have to pay
Or purchase flight ticket to far away
At night I see it in the starry sky
A thing of beauty is a thing of joy.
And the finest of beauty you don't pay to see
Like a red rosella on a sunlit tree
In Nature's garden living wild and free
And you won't see any prettier than he.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Willow Weep For Me
(1932) ann ronell
Willow weep for me, willow weep for me,
Bend your branches green along the stream that runs to sea,
Listen to my plea, listen willow weep for me,
Gone my lovers dream, lovely summer dream,
Gone and left me here to weep my tears into the stream,
Sad as I can be - hear me willow and weep for me.
Whisper to the wind to say that love has sinned
To leave my heart aching and making this moan,
Murmur to the night to hide her starry light,
So none will find me sighing and crying all alone,
Weeping willow tree, weep in sympathy,
Bend your branches down along the ground and cover me,
When the shadows fall, bend oh willow and weep for me.
To leave my heart aching and making this moan,
So none will find me sighing and crying all alone,
Weeping willow tree, weep in sympathy,
Bend your branches down along the ground and cover me,
When the shadows fall, bend oh willow,
Bend oh willow and weep for me.
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Willow Tree (…from “1001 Very Short Fairytales”, Story #97)
There was this little willow tree,
That lived for many seasons;
It had its branches wild and free,
Without giving any reasons.
Then this woodsman came along
And said to the tree, it just couldn't
Have these wild branches,
He would have to chop them all away,
But the little willow tree just wouldn't
Give in;
So the woodsman,
Cut it down the very next day.
And now the forest has lost its soul,
Of everlasting wilderness
And beauty.
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Self Portrait
The willow tree stands alone.
It grows alone, relying only on the Sun and the Rain.
This willow tree offers shade.
It only shades during the day, casting a monster
of a shadow in the mornings and evenings,
its size shrinking in between. Its shadow
is solid in some places, but has empty
places of sunlight dotting the ground beneath
it, allowing room for purity among the darkness.
This willow tree is immune to the Wind.
It bends whichever way it needs to survive,
sacrificing its tiny leaves to be carried away.
This willow tree is a home.
Small birds build nests on its branches,
laying eggs that will bring new Life to the World.
The nest is supported. Some things of little
weight can be supported, but anything that drags
the branches too close to the ground
will be dropped so the tree can be saved.
This willow tree is weak.
As it grows, its branches come closer and closer
to the ground, for it cannot support the weight
of itself anymore. It cannot help its own soul.
With one swing of an ax, the tree will be felled.
It will be finished, left there to be eaten
and burrowed in and rotted away by the Earth.
poem by Zoe Guillory
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Far More Pretty Than The Flowers Hanging On The Branches
Far more pretty than the flowers hanging on the branches,
more glamorous than the sun in the blue sky,
much closer than the birds in their flight
you come into my life by your own will,
you bring comfort to the daily longing
and constantly return from work.
Far more pretty than the flowers hanging on the branches,
more glamorous than the sun in the blue sky,
the depth of our love sometimes scares me;
for getting hurt these feelings are sometimes renowned
but our love makes my humanity lustrous
and constantly you are
far more pretty than the flowers hanging on the branches,
more glamorous than the sun in the blue sky.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Willow tree by the lake
Willow tree by the lake standing tall since the day one
Home for birds and squirrels, place of fun
Breeze will come and play with her branches
Whistle at them before they move on
Any time, at mid day, at night or at the crack of dawn
Humming bird feeder and bird house hanging all over the tree
They swing back and forth and hang free
All summer it is a fun house as the birds come and go
Rabbits will hop around on the ground below.
Ducks will sit idle or sleep under her shade
Squirrels will carry food up the trunk, not afraid
During winter when nature sleeps no life around
Willow tree will shelter the birds, the squirrels
and even the worms under it's ground.
Many yrs ago I planted the tree, saw it grow day by day
Sat under it, wrote poems, it made me happy and gay
I know one day my time will be up and I will be gone
But my willow tree will still be here, singing with the wind at each dawn.
poem by Syed Karim
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Willow Weep For Me
Yes, willow weep for me
Willow weep for me
Bend your branches green along the stream that runs to sea
Listen to my plea
Listen willow and weep for me
Yes, gone my lovers dream
Lovely summer dream
Gone and left me here to weep my tears into the stream
Sad as I can be
Hear me willow and weep for me
Oh, whisper to the wind and say that loves a sin
Leave my heart a-breaking, and making a moan
Murmur to the night to hide her starry light
So none will find me sighing, crying all alone
Oh, willow weep tree
Weeping sympathy
Bend your branches down along the ground and cover me
When the shadows fall, bend over willow and weep for me
Whisper to the wind and say that love is sin
Leave my heart a-breaking, and making a moan
Murmur to the night to hide her starry light
So none will find me sighing and crying all alone
Yes, willow weep tree
Weeping sympathy
Bend your branches down along the ground and cover me
When the shadows fall, bend over willow and weep for me
Yes
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In The Willow Shade
I sat beneath a willow tree,
Where water falls and calls;
While fancies upon fancies solaced me,
Some true, and some were false.
Who set their heart upon a hope
That never comes to pass,
Droop in the end like fading heliotrope
The sun's wan looking-glass.
Who set their will upon a whim
Clung to through good and ill,
Are wrecked alike whether they sink or swim,
Or hit or miss their will.
All things are vain that wax and wane,
For which we waste our breath;
Love only doth not wane and is not vain,
Love only outlives death.
A singing lark rose toward the sky,
Circling he sang amain;
He sang, a speck scarce visible sky-high,
And then he sank again.
A second like a sunlit spark
Flashed singing up his track;
But never overtook that foremost lark,
And songless fluttered back.
A hovering melody of birds
Haunted the air above;
They clearly sang contentment without words,
And youth and joy and love.
O silvery weeping willow tree
With all leaves shivering,
Have you no purpose but to shadow me
Beside this rippled spring?
On this first fleeting day of Spring,
For Winter is gone by,
And every bird on every quivering wing
Floats in a sunny sky;
On this first Summer-like soft day,
While sunshine steeps the air,
And every cloud has gat itself away,
And birds sing everywhere.
Have you no purpose in the world
But thus to shadow me
With all your tender drooping twigs unfurled,
O weeping willow tree?
With all your tremulous leaves outspread
Betwixt me and the sun,
While here I loiter on a mossy bed
With half my work undone;
My work undone, that should be done
At once with all my might;
For after the long day and lingering sun
Comes the unworking night.
This day is lapsing on its way,
Is lapsing out of sight;
And after all the chances of the day
Comes the resourceless night.
The weeping willow shook its head
And stretched its shadow long;
The west grew crimson, the sun smoldered red,
The birds forbore a song.
Slow wind sighed through the willow leaves,
The ripple made a moan,
The world drooped murmuring like a thing that grieves;
And then I felt alone.
I rose to go, and felt the chill,
And shivered as I went;
Yet shivering wondered, and I wonder still,
What more that willow meant;
That silvery weeping willow tree
With all leaves shivering,
Which spent one long day overshadowing me
Beside a spring in Spring.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Go Plant a Tree
God, what a joy it is to plant a tree,
And from the sallow earth to watch it rise,
Lifting its emerald branches to the skies
In silent adoration; and to see
Its strength and glory waxing with each spring.
Yes, 'tis a goodly, and a gladsome thing
To plant a tree.
Nature has many marvels; but a tree
Seems more than marvellous. It is divine.
So generous, so tender, so benign.
Not garrulous like the rivers; and yet free
In pleasant converse with the winds and birds;
Oh! privilege beyond explaining words,
To plant a tree.
Rocks are majestic; but, unlike a tree,
They stand aloof, and silent. In the roar
Of ocean billows breaking on the shore
There sounds the voice of turmoil. But a tree
Speaks ever of companionship and rest.
Yea, of all righteous acts, this, this is best,
To plant a tree.
There is an oak (oh! how I love that tree)
Which has been thriving for a hundred years;
Each day I send my blessing through the spheres
To one who gave this triple boon to me,
Of growing beauty, singing birds, and shade.
Wouldst thou win laurels that shall never fade?
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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I Always Like The Northern Birches
I always s like the northern birches:
Their view, so downcast and grave,
The fever, which poor souls scorches,
Cools like the mute speech of a grave.
But yet, the willow, which branches,
With their long leaves, cast in a flood,
Is closer to a dream, that scourges,
And longer lives in our heart.
Deploring groves their own,
Their meadows – with bitter tears,
Tell birches to cold wind alone
Their common sufferings and fears.
Believing that the whole ground
Is motherland of sacred grieves,
The weeping willow all around
Inclines its branches with long leaves.
poem by Afanasy Afanasyevich Fet
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New green leaves are all over the willow tree
New green leaves are all over the willow tree
and wherever I look
some pretty wild flowers I do see,
and arum-lilies are blooming in the brook
on this, the very first day of spring,
and it's if all of nature is welcoming me,
as if the birds do sing
and rejoice quite happily
as if to this great new world I do belong
as if everything around me is covered in beauty,
in a kind of innocence far from the trampling throng
and the feeling of the presence of God becomes strong
as the river forever rushes on merrily,
as if this place in nature is where I am meant to be.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Tree
The weathered tree stripped bare
broken branches hang still
as though to scar its nature
no birds nest here any more
a thing of beauty has passed
into a beauty of another kind
colourless in the backdropp of sky
roots rise and fall into the ground
etchings of forgotten loves
remain as eternal memories
no lovers shade here now
the tree stands as though defiant
unwilling to relinquish to time
that which grew so tall
not dead, perhaps dying
stripped and broken it stands
the weathered tree
a work of life's true beauty
poem by Matthew Holloway
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The Willow Tree
Around the willow tree
Sounds of life rang through the air
It felt like home to me.
Home, where I was not.
But this willow tree comforted me,
And so I forgot.
This tree was part of me.
It's limbs swaying so gracefully
A lovely thing to see.
But now I am back home.
And I think about the willow tree
Standing all alone.
Home, where I'm glad to be.
But often I still find myself
Longing for that tree.
poem by Desiree Peters
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Weeping Willow
Weeping willow why do you cry
Why don't your branches touch the sky
They touch the ground
And without a sound
A tear escapes your eye
The sky grows dark as the storm clouds near
But do not worry have no fear
The storm will pass
This will not last
And I will still be here
So weeping willow do not cry
Let your barnches touch the sky
Don't let them sag
Don't let them drag
And release a silky sigh
poem by Anonymous Ghurl
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A Pleasant Day In Gippsland In July
The breeding frogs in the shallow pools are croaking
But they fall silent as near you walk by
Elusive creatures their secrets of survival
Is that they are small and hard to see and shy.
The day is pleasant if a little chilly
Even though the sun is shining in the sky
Still one could easily find a climate more unpleasant
Than South Gippsland in mid Winter in July.
A time of year when growth is all but dormant
Yet every day is one day nearer Spring
And even in the pale weak Winter sunlight
The magpie on a gum tree briefly sing.
It is a pleasant day to walk in Nature
White fronted chats from ground to fence line fly
On Winter months in small flocks they assemble
In rank coastal paddocks where the ground is dry.
On pleasant days in Gippsland in the winter
There's things of natural beauty for to see
And it is nice to walk the gravelly pathway
When the yellow blooms are on the wattle tree.
South Gippsland in Victoria in mid winter
A pleasant day with a slight freshening breeze
And it's not warm although the sun is shining
And the temperatures around fourteen degrees.
poem by Francis Duggan
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